


McHanzo Week 2016

by szhismine



Series: McHanzo Trash [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, not sure what other tags I'll need yet, nsfw in chapter five
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8893546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szhismine/pseuds/szhismine
Summary: My fic answers for the McHanzo week on tumblr! Will be updated as needed.DAY 1 — First TimeDAY 2 — Domestic LifeDAY 3 — Alternate UniverseDAY 4 — Role ReversalDAY 5 — Young LoveDAY 6 — Ultimate SwapDAY 7 — Holiday Season





	1. First Time

It's a night of firsts.

The first time they kiss, McCree steals Hanzo's breath away. The tall, lumbering man tastes of smoke, and bourbon, and whatever spices he'd added to the pasta sauce he'd made for dinner. It's divine, and damn near addictive. Hanzo plunges his tongue into McCree's mouth greedily, holding his face in a firm grip until he finally allows them to break for air.

What Hanzo remembers most about that exact moment is how when their lips part from that full, deep kiss, McCree plants a softer, shorter kiss before drawing away. It's unexpected, and strange, and... _good_. It pulls Hanzo in for more, tugging him towards the cowboy like a magnet. McCree does the same thing after their second kiss, and their third; until they're pulling at each others clothes with a furious impatience. Both have wanted this for longer than either cared to admit. Finally, the physical craving that's been building up for months could be sated. Hanzo is not one to waste an opportunity.

He takes McCree to bed, needing to know if the cowboy has more surprises in store. He does. When Hanzo awakes the next morning it's with a satisfaction that no other lover had left him before. McCree surprises him even further when he suggests they might do this again sometime- strictly casual, of course; just two friends blowing off some steam. Hanzo tries to appear reluctant as he agrees, then promptly shoos his visitor out so he can get ready for the day ahead.

“...Ya called me Jesse.” The cowboy stops in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. “Durin'... ya know...” he grins. “I think it's the first time ya called me that.”

The archer simply gives McCree his usual stoic stare, until the larger man chuckles and finally leaves.

*

Outwardly, Hanzo is still his usual distant self. One night of self-indulgence is hardly enough to drop his carefully cultivated reputation. Even so, Lena can't help but note how he looks a _little_ more relaxed than usual when he enters the dining room for breakfast. Hana notices as well, and begins whispering furiously with Lucio about possible explanations, including 'alien body-snatching'.

When McCree saunters in an hour later, no one suspects anything of him. He shuffles about, first to the coffee machine, then to the stove top for whatever leftovers remain. He piles his plate with everything, then stands at the counter and wolfs down his meal. Already finished his own food, Hanzo walks over to set his dirty dishes in the sink. He lingers for a moment, wondering if he should say anything to the cowboy. Would that cause more hushed whispers and rumours? Would acting cold and harsh towards him just lead to the same? Feeling a bit frustrated at his own indecision, Hanzo huffs and turns on his heel, marching towards McCree on his way out of the kitchen.

Side-eyeing the archer as he approaches, McCree swallows down his last morsel of food. “See ya at trainin' later?” he asks casually. He feels like he has a dirty secret, and while he enjoys the hell out of it, he doesn't want to put Hanzo on the spot, nor draw attention to their... affair? One night stand? Thing? Is there even a word to describe something that's so new for them both?

“Yes.” Hanzo brushes past him, stops, and glances over his shoulder. “Jesse.” And continues on, smirking to himself at the feel of everyone's eyes on his back.

*

Not half an hour passes before Genji bursts into Hanzo's room, voice frantic with excitement. “You and Jesse!? Tell me everything!”

Glancing up from the book he's reading, careful to keep his expression controlled, Hanzo gives his brother a Look. “What?”

“Don't lie to me Hanzo! Half the Watch heard you call him Jesse instead of McCree!” Genji bounces on his heels. Even with the cybernetic armour he now wears, Hanzo sees him as the playful, mischievous boy he used to be.

“So?”

 Genji stomps his foot, a childish gesture that Hanzo is convinced he'll never grow out of. “But _anija_ , you never call _anyone_ by their first name except me!”  
  
Sighing dismissively, Hanzo looks back down to his book as he answers. He can't help but smile, knowing it would just egg his younger brother on further. In their youth he used to tease Genji like this, and he just can't resist doing so again. “There is a first time for everything.”

*

 


	2. Domestic Life

“Aw yeah, this is what I’m talkin’ about.”  
  
Jesse grins and kisses Hanzo’s cheek as the archer sets a tray down across the bedridden gunslinger’s lap. For the last three days he’s been holed up inside his room with the flu, with only Hanzo and Angela for company- the rest of the team gave him their well wishes from afar, on Winston’s insistence. Last thing the leader of Overwatch needed was for his entire team to be incapacitated by the flu.

“Y'know, if yer gunna nurse me back ta health, the least ya could do is wear a matchin’ outfit.” Jesse’s eyes shine with mischief and fever.

“Shut up.” Despite the admonishment, Hanzo smiles as he pours them both some tea. Accompanying the hot beverage is some homemade chicken noodle soup, courtesy of Reinhardt, and a plate of cookies to treat the sick man. Over the last few days, Hanzo was surprised to discover that he doesn’t mind forsaking other duties to care for Jesse. Deep down, he thrills at being someone Jesse depends on. However, every time he finds himself wanting to voice his thoughts, the right words escape him.

Taking in a deep whiff of the hearty soup, Jesse stifles a cough. He absolutely hates being sick, but being taken care of by Hanzo almost made it worth it. Despite the stuffy nose, the meal smells like heaven to him, and he beams up at his lover. “Heh, ya keep spoilin’ me like this an’ I’ll hafta ask ya ta move in with me!”

Hanzo’s hands still before he could pick up his own tea cup. “You want me to move in with you?” He asked incredulously. 

Jesse freezes. “N-no, I mean… I mean yeah? I mean- uh…”

A blush creeps up Hanzo’s cheeks. “Apologies, I misunderstood you,” he mumbles, moving away from Jesse. _Baka_ , Hanzo thinks angrily to himself.

A hand encloses around Hanzo’s wrist. “Now hold on a minute,” Jesse protests firmly, looking Hanzo in the eye. “Since we’re talkin’ ‘bout this now, let’s talk.” His gaze softens. He didn’t think Hanzo would react this way. Their relationship, for lack of a better word, is still in flux. Undefined. He thought they were both okay with that, until now.

“It was a jest. Do not worry about it,” Hanzo snaps, unable to keep his frustration at bay.

Jesse tilts his head. “Well, I mean we do sorta live together anyway, i-in the Watchpoint.” Hanzo looks ready to leave, and the cowboy quickly corrects himself. “I mean, you’ve got a drawer in my room, I’ve got a drawer in yer room. Not a night goes by we don’t spend together, missions aside. An’ we…” he waves his hand between them, “We agreed ta give this thing a real shot, right? So…”

“You would tire of living with me, would you not?” Hanzo asks gruffly, gesturing to the room. “You would need to keep your- our room organized.” Jesse grimaces as he takes in the sight of half-open drawers, shirts strewn into random piles, and the overflowing basket of dirty laundry. It looked that way since before he got sick.

“Hey, it’s not that I can’t keep things clean, I’d just rather spend my time on other things.” His thumb rubs the back of Hanzo’s hand. “Look, we don’t need ta do anythin’ just yet. But maybe think 'bout it?”

“Very well,” Hanzo replies after a tense silence. “In the meantime, eat your soup.”

Jesse pouts. “Ya don’t wanna feed me yerself?”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Hanzo growls and storms off. But he doesn’t leave without turning back to Jesse and smiling, receiving a genuine grin in return.

*


	3. Alternate Universe

It was a late night when Jesse McCree stumbled into the Arrow’s Point, already quite tipsy. He’d wanted to avoid this particular establishment, for the simple reason that he always came to this bar. It was conveniently located right next to his apartment building, which was great when he needed a night cap or just some time with his friends. But when he managed to get a date this morning at work, he’d suggested a much nicer place, a few blocks down. 

The downside was when his date didn’t show, and he began to drown his sorrows in liquor, he then had to walk home on his own. He’d been about to head up, but the thought of going into an empty bachelor apartment again was too depressing. At least here he could have company in his misery.

“Oof. Rough night, luv?” Lena, the head waitress, gave him a sympathetic smile and rested a hand on his arm. “Want me to get someone to take you home?”

“Where Willy at?” Jesse shrugged her off and looked for the tall, lumbering man who always kept his favourite bourbon in stock just for him.

“Night off!” Lena pointed at the bar. “Got someone new tonight, you should go say hi!” She not so subtly nudged him in that direction. Jesse shrugged and sauntered up, claiming his favourite stool to sit on. He took a moment to rub his eyes, breathing deep. The cheap alcohol he’d already drank was making his stomach churn. Maybe he should go home.

The sound of a man clearning his throat made him look up, and Jesse was immediately thunderstruck. The first thing he noticed about the new bartender was that he was much too handsome to be in a place like this. Chiseled features, toned arms underneath a tight v-neck shirt, straight hair tied back in a perfect bun. His eyes were dark and expressive, eyeing Jesse with curiosity and something else Jesse couldn’t put his finger on. “How may I help you?” His tone was polite, if a bit cold.

“Uh… bourbon, straight.” Jesse stared, watching his drink get made. After a silent minute he pointed a finger at the bartender. “I know ya, don’t I? You seem damn familiar.” While he would definitely remember a face like that, something about his voice rang a bell.

Setting the glass of liquor down in front of his patron, the Japanese man huffed and crossed his arms. “I would hope so. Your loud cowboy movies kept me awake last night.” His eyes narrowed. “Even after I banged on your wall and asked you to turn it down. _Twice_.”  
  
“My-” Jesse’s eyes widened as it clicked. “Oh shit, yer-”  
  
“Hanzo Shimada. Apartment 105.” His tone was clipped, and clearly annoyed.

Jesse swallowed nervously. “Jesse McCree. Apartment 106.” So this was his new neighbour. “Heard someone moved in. I, uh, I fell asleep halfway through _The Magnificent Seven_ , didn’t hear yer complainin’ till the second time.”

“Did your last neighbours move out because you keep your tv on too loud?” Hanzo snapped. “I was going to confront you this morning, but as I opened my door you ran past. Probably late for work.” He snorted.

“Sorry,” Jesse apologized sincerely. “I didn’t realize-”

“Perhaps you should get your hearing checked.” Hanzo clenched his jaw and glanced away. “Excuse me, I have other customers.”

After Hanzo walked away, Jesse whistled low under his breath. “God damn…” He made a mental note to introduce himself properly tomorrow, after sobering up. And making an apology cake. Because he sure as hell wanted to be on the good side of such a gorgeous creature. “Damn,” he muttered into his glass, downing his bourbon with a smirk. Maybe getting stood up tonight wasn’t such a bad thing after all.


	4. Role Reversal

“I don’t like it.”  
  
Hanzo sighs, not looking at Jesse as he packs his bow into its case. “We’ve been over this, Jesse. The goal is to protect the shipment, and the Numbani government will only sanction operations if we limit ourselves to the payload, and the road it’s on. Any other movement will be deemed illegal.”

“Yer a _sniper_ , Hanzo,” Jesse growls. “It’ll be a helluva lot more dangerous fer ya, an’ the team, if yer stuck on street level! The government don’t gotta know where ya are!”

“Their security force will be monitoring the transfer. I am not going to risk arrest, and I am not going to compromise Overwatch’s safety.” Hanzo’s shoulders tense; he agrees with Jesse, and finds the restriction ridiculous, but of course he can’t say so. It was the only way Winston could convince the city to let them help keep a weapons shipment safe while it’s transported through the city. Although civilians would be evacuated from the area, Numbani didn’t want to risk repercussions from the United Nations for hiring Overwatch. Their force would be small, in and out as soon as the shipment gets delivered.

Jesse is much more vocal about his objections. “Yer the quietest man here, won’t be any sweat off yer back ta avoid security. Why are ya bein’ so stubborn ‘bout this?” He crosses his arms, not ready to drop his concerns. “Ya always hate it when-”

“We’ll be late,” Hanzo interrupts, expressions set into a frown. “We can talk about it after the mission.” He exits his quarters, leaving Jesse alone.

Frustrated, Jesse takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. He sits on the edge of Hanzo’s bed, trying to figure out Hanzo’s mood.  After a moment he gets back up again, securing his hat on his head. “Fuckin’ damnit.”

*

“Widowmaker!”

The name rings in his ear, and Hanzo peers out from behind the payload, scanning the rooftops. If he were up there he’d have eyes on her, but he’s grounded, despite the development of Talon presence. On the radio, Winston is still insistent on playing it by the rules. Numbani’s security force is scattered throughout the tall buildings, trying to root out the Talon soldiers hiding within. The rest of the team is spread out on the street, leaving Hanzo alone to protect the shipment, usually Jesse or Jack’s job. But Soldier 76 is on another mission and Jesse is… nowhere in sight. Cursing in Japanese, Hanzo keyed his communicator. “McCree, report your location!” Worry hits him like a brick as he gets no reply.

Distracted, Hanzo sees it almost too late. The red dot of Widowmaker’s targeting laser, appearing like a stain on Mei’s coat. Abandoning his post he springs forward towards the climatologist, shouting a warning. Mei immediately responds, but her thumb fumbles on the switch of her blaster, too slow to throw up a wall.

Hanzo’s heart stops. “No-!”

A gunshot cracks through the air, but it’s not of a sniper rifle. Hanzo freezes, and looks back up, seeing Widowmaker’s perch now empty. That had to be Peacekeeper, the sound of that revolver is unmistakable. Before he can try contacting Jesse again, Hanzo sees a Talon agent make a mad dash for the payload. Growling, he makes swift work of him with a scatter arrow. He exhales hard, the adrenaline making him shaky now that Overwatch and the Numbani security force were taking control of the situation.

“That was close.”

Hanzo spins on his heel, angry and embarrassed that Jesse snuck up on him. The gunslinger is slightly winded, but grinning. Behind him is an open door to a high-rise, and the archer’s relief at seeing his lover unharmed is replaced with rage. “You!” Snarling, Hanzo jabs a finger at his chest plate. “You idiot! What were you _thinking_?”

Jesse holds his hands up defensively. “Easy! I saw Widowmaker slinkin’ up a building an’ followed her. She killed three security guards, weren’t no one else around, an’ no one saw me come back down. We’re safe, an’ the payload’s secure.”

The answer doesn’t seem to comfort Hanzo. “What are you doing, risking yourself like that?” He hisses, shoving Jesse back roughly. “You-” In an instant, his anger seems to evaporate to gratitude, and he grabs Jesse by his serape and tugs him close, their lips crashing together. The cowboy’s shocked expression quickly melts into pleasure as he kisses him back, wrapping his arms around the shorter man and leaning into him.

When they pull apart, Jesse’s eyes are shining with adoration. “Idiot,” Hanzo mutters with a smile.

“Okay, okay! Get a room you two!” Hana’s mech flies past them and onto the payload. “We still gotta finish this! Do your gross old man making out later.”

Jesse grins and tilts his head, gesturing at their teammate. “Guess we better do what the boss says.”

“You never do what the boss says,” Hanzo points out, knocking an arrow to his bow. “Now that you are back, make yourself useful. We can… discuss this more after the mission.” He winks at Jesse, and the cowboy’s heart damn near melts.

“Darlin’, I like the way ya think.”


	5. Young Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nsfw!!!!

“MMmmm… mmm- unnhhh… ahhh…”

Jesse’s face is screwed up in pleasure, one arm leaning against the wall to hold himself upright while his other hand is wrapped tightly in the hair of the stranger that’s currently on his knees in front of him with hot lips wrapped around his aching cock. The young cowboy tries to watch the coldly attractive man while he sucks him off, but every time he swirls his tongue along his shaft, Jesse’s focus slips. 

Jesse had protested strongly when Blackwatch decided to send him to Hanamura, Japan. Surely they had other agents more familiar with the culture, was what he told Reyes. But his protests fell on deaf ears, and before he knew it he was checking into a hotel, jet-lagged and grumpy. After barely a few hours of shut-eye he’d woken up, in an even fouler mood. Despite the fact he was on a tight schedule, his first priority was food and alcohol, lots of it. Although he didn’t know any Japanese, he had enough common sense to recognize a building just around the corner as a restaurant.

The ramen shop was empty when he entered, save for one other customer. A young man who looked to be his age, with long sleek hair and regal features. Jesse immediately found him attractive, but decided against approaching him. His stomach was rumbling and last thing he needed was to embarrass himself trying to flirt in another country. He took a seat a few tables away and ordered, lucky that the server knew English. Every now and then he’d glance up, seeing the handsome man watching him curiously.

How they went from staring at each other to hooking up in a bathroom stall at the back of the restaurant, Jesse isn’t quite sure. But his grievances over the mission were certainly disappearing quickly.

A jolt of pleasure in his gut brings Jesse back to the moment, as this mystery man hollows his cheeks and sucks on the cowboy’s throbbing erection with loud, obscene noises. Jesse groans, toes curling in his boots as the familiar feeling of release starts building quickly inside him. “Fuck… oh fuck I’m gunna cum, baby,” he gasps. 

Instead of pulling away, the man looks up, meeting Jesse’s eyes as he slides as much of his mouth as he can onto Jesse’s girth, moans vibrating around the member. With a hoarse shout Jesse comes, his hot seed spurting into the man’s mouth, which gets swallowed up greedily. Dazed, Jesse sags against the wall, panting as the wet feeling around him vanishes. The stranger pulls away, licking his lips and tucking Jesse back into his pants. He stands up gracefully, his face inches away from Jesse’s, his expression curious and distant once more.

Jesse hesitates, not 100% sure what the protocol is in a situation like this. While no stranger to casual sex, hookups in semi-public places are new to him. “So-”

“Thank you for your time,” the shorter man interrupts, much too formal for what they’d just done. Without another word he pushes open the stall door and turns to leave, ignoring the flabbergasted look on the cowboy’s face.

“W-wait.” He reaches for the man’s arm, but his hand gets knocked aside. Jesse can’t help the look of hurt that crosses his face. “Ya don’t want me ta…?”

“I do not require reciprocation.” The words and accompanying tone are cold enough to drop the temperature of the room a few degrees.

“Well… I’m in town fer a while, can I see ya again? Or at least get yer name?” Jesse winces, hoping he was imagining the desperation in his voice.

The Japanese man looks shocked at the questions, as if no one had ever asked that of him before. “Why?”

The reply comes with a shrug. “Well… in case ya ever change yer mind ‘bout reciprocation. Or if ya just wanna hang out sometime?”

“Why would I want to ‘hang out’ with an American?” The stranger looks offended at the suggestion.

The corner of Jesse’s eye twitches in irritation, unable to keep from giving in to his rising anger. “Why would ya want ta give one a blow job and then fuck off like it never happened?”

Clearly, this man isn’t used to someone standing up to him. His cheeks turn red as he looks away. “I… t-that is none of your concern!” he sputters.

“Look, I mighta accepted yer proposition like the horn dog I am, but I like ta think o’ myself as a gentleman.” Jesse holds out his hand. “No names, no reciprocation? Fine. At least let me buy ya a god-damned drink.”

There’s a long moment of silence before no-name takes his hand, giving it a curt shake. “Fine. One drink.”

“Fine.” 

“Fine.”

One drink turns into five, enough to loosen both their tongues. Names are not the only things exchanged, when Hanzo decides he’d like some reciprocation after all. 

They meet every night that week, until the day comes for Jesse to leave. They exchange numbers, and goodbyes, and more last kisses than they’d like to admit. Neither of them would forget their week-long whirlwind of an affair, not even years later when they were to meet again. When they do, there’s no question of reciprocation this time.


	6. Ultimate Swap

“Hanzo! Hanzo wake up!”

A bullet flew past Jesse’s ear, causing him to curse and duck as he dragged Hanzo’s limp body behind cover. Cover, in this case, consisted of a large pile of bricks and rubble from a collapsed house just next to them. If only the wall at the end of the alleyway were collapsed as well, maybe they’d have an out. As it were, they were trapped.

“Shit.” A finger pressed against the communicator in his ear, getting nothing but static as response. Jamming signal? How could… “Fuckin’-”

A storm of bullets hailed towards them, and Jesse slouched down as low as he could, drawing Peacekeeper and holding it against his chest. The ambush had come out of nowhere. It was Los Muertos- the face paint made that obvious- although since when did they have the tech to jam Overwatch’s comm frequencies? This, at least, was the evidence Overwatch was sent to collect. Jesse, Hanzo and Jack arrived in Dorado after getting disturbing reports of increased violence from the gang. Someone was supplying them with better tech and weapons, and Los Muertos was savagely trying to expand their territory. Almost as soon as the trio showed up in town they were attacked en masse. Jack got separated from them almost immediately, and an explosion from a stray rocket knocked Hanzo out. Looking down, Jesse grimaced at the sight of blood trickling down the archer’s hairline. His breathing was steady, but Jesse knew enough about head wounds to know that the longer he was out, the more danger he was in. And it would be damn harder to get out of this situation if he had to lug an unconscious man around.

The one upside to the alley was that it bottle necked their attackers. There was no room for Los Muertos to run or hide. Thumbing the hammer on his prized six-shooter, the cowboy waited, breathing slow and deep to collect himself. As soon as there was a break in the fire, Jesse took his chance, and stood to his full height, turning and aiming at his enemies, like he had in countless missions before. “It’s high- AUGH!”

So used to having a team to watch his back, he’d almost forgotten how exposed Deadeye made him. His shots were lined up perfectly, but before pulling the trigger, a sharp burst of pain to the shoulder made him stagger and fall back to the ground. Peacekeeper clattered to the pavement next to him, falling from his limp arm.

“God fuckin’ damn sonuva-!” Jesse clamped his mechanical hand down on the bullet wound, blood seeping between his alloy fingers. Growling against gritted teeth he pulled himself up and leaned his back against the pile of brick rubble, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. There was no way he could try Deadeye again; his shooting arm was useless, and he’d be too vulnerable without backup. No sign of Jack, and he could hear the thugs behind him laugh as they slowly approached, shooting random bursts of gunfire to keep him from popping his head up. He and Hanzo were as good as dead.

_Hanzo._ Jesse peered down at his still lover, feeling a pang of regret that these could be their last moments together. His gaze lingered on the intricate tattoo running down the archer’s left arm. Hanzo’s dragons could easily get them out of this jam. He wouldn’t have to duck out of cover to use them, and it would be impossible for Los Muertos to avoid them in such a crowded space. “If only I’d been the one knocked out,” Jesse muttered darkly. He knew if their positions were reversed, Hanzo would keep him safe, and get them out alive. The thought of failing Hanzo sent a ripple of anger through the cowboy, and he squared himself to keep fighting, no matter what the odds.

Hanzo, though unconscious, still held his bow in a loose grip. Jesse bit his lip as he glanced at an arrow that was sticking out of its quiver. He couldn’t use the Storm Bow for shit, but he could easily throw a sonic arrow out and get a read of the enemy’s positions. He still had no plan, but he learned long ago that doing something was better than doing nothing. Grunting in pain as he shifted closer to Hanzo, Jesse let go of his shoulder, which was still bleeding profusely. Bloodied metal fingers grazed lightly over the toned, inked arm of his lover as he reached over him for an arrow.

What happened next, Jesse would never be able to fully explain. The best he could describe it was as sparks jumping from Hanzo’s skin to Jesse’s fingertips, and a faint hum that turned into an uproar as bright blue light exploded into his vision. Wincing from the unexpected brightness, he squinted until his eyes could adjust. All he could see was blue. Slowly bringing his gaze upwards, it wasn’t until he saw two massive, animal-looking heads that it clicked. Had he… summoned Hanzo’s dragons?

Jesse was frozen, from fear and confusion. He’d never been so up close to the spirit beings, and he’d certainly never faced them dead on. They hovered in front of him, large and imposing and eerily still, as if waiting. Waiting for him. “Um…” Behind him, he could hear startled shouts and Spanish cursing. He glanced at his surroundings, then at Hanzo, then back up at the dragons. Seeing them staring down at him with what he interpreted as impatience, Jesse did the only thing he could think of. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he called out to the dragons, “Hey, can y'all go kill those guys? …Please?”

There was no hesitation from the beasts as they sprang into action. Jesse felt a thrum of energy as they passed through him, and the gust of wind they produced blew his hat clear off his head. He got to his feet, and watched as they tore through the Los Muertos thugs, drawing out pained screams as they died in agony from a mystical power they could never comprehend.

Mesmerized by the sight, it took Jesse a moment to realize something was very wrong. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him, and his knees shook as all energy and willpower seemed to leave him at once. As the gang members collapsed lifeless in the alley, Jesse felt himself go limp, and then knew no more.

*

When Hanzo awakened two days later in the infirmary at Gibraltar, Jesse was asleep in a chair and Genji was standing to attention at his side. “ _Anija_ ,” he greeted softly, not wanting to disturb the cowboy’s rest. “How are you?”

“I feel-” He was going to say his head hurt, but a different feeling quickly overpowered that thought. He looked at his tattooed arm, then back up to Genji with confusion. It wasn’t a physical discomfort, but he sensed something was out of place with his beloved dragons. “What-”

The cyborg shrugged. “I only know what Jesse told me. Your dragons appeared before him while you were unconscious. They saved you both.”

“Incredible.” Hanzo flexed his hand experimentally, making a mental note to meditate later and ask his spirit companions what happened. It wasn’t completely unheard of for a Shimada’s dragons to act of their own accord, but it was rare. Jesse couldn’t possibly have the knowledge to call on them intentionally, but somehow they responded to him.  
  
“I am glad you’re both safe,” Genji said quietly. Jesse stirred, snorting and shifting in his seat, but he continued to sleep on. His arm was in a sling, and even from the bed Hanzo could see the dark rings under his eyes. “He got shot, and the summoning drained him. He only woke up half a day ago.” Genji explained.

“Let him keep sleeping,” Hanzo rested his head back against his pillow. “I must think about what this means.”

“Very well. I will leave you to rest.” Genji patted his brother’s shoulder, then added, “Though I think you already know what it means.” Before Hanzo could answer, Genji left him.

There was no other sound except for the infirmary’s machines, and Jesse’s snoring. Eventually it lulled the weary Hanzo back to sleep. Just before drifting off, he heard two familiar voices in his mind. _You… cowboy… happy… must protect._


End file.
